


Sunday Morning

by mickey2k14



Series: Sunday Morning [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Alternate Universe - Human, Casual Sex, Fraternities & Sororities, Fuckbuddies, M/M, Multi, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3526946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickey2k14/pseuds/mickey2k14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles starts this thing with Derek, he doesn't factor in one Jordan Parrish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Morning

"We met each other on a Sunday morning, both doing our walk of shame" AU

 

See, the thing is, when Derek first proposed their current arrangement to him, Stiles thought he had weighed up all the pros and cons.

Because sex with Derek was amazing, from the handful of times he'd tried it, and Derek himself was so far out of his league so the opportunity to be fuckbuddies wasn't something he even needed to think about. Sure, maybe Stiles' crush was about to get a whole lot worse a whole lot faster but one did not simply say 'no' to Derek Hale.

Which was how he ends up here, on a Sunday morning, taking the three flights of stairs to get to the ground floor. He's only absent-mindedly paying attention to what his feet are doing since they're stairs and they're hardly going to rear up and attack him but that's exactly what happens. Or, rather, he'd shoved on his canvas shoes far too quickly before he left and he steps on his own shoelace and trips down the rest of the stairs.

And since it's Stiles and he can never be allowed to wallow in his own mortification, he's acutely aware of the fact that he took someone else down with him.

"I'm lucky you're light," the hands on his waist are big and warm, getting his libido far too interested considering last night, "or else someone could've got hurt."

"Shit, I'm sorry, I'm just unnaturally clumsy." He sits up quickly and quickly backs a decent way away, leaning back on his heels, "Are you okay? Like, did you hit your head?"

"Not hard."

And Stiles has never thought of himself as particularly responsible but spending so much time at Scott's house with Melissa has definitely rubbed off on him and he's never been able to capture the same flippancy other students have with their health. He supposes that being the sheriff's son has something to do with it, too, and he'd gradually fallen into the role of the caretaker. So he doesn't hesitate to look the guy over.

"Show me the back of your head, your health is important."

The guy looks surprised, but amused, and ducks his head forward so Stiles can check him.

Stiles, having had practice from far too many childhood accidents and overenthusiastic playdates with Scott, runs his hands through short hair, feeling for bumps before looking more visually, "Holy shit, that's a massive bruise on your neck, what the hell happened there?"

"Not a bruise," he says, grinning sharply.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he says, fingers moving to tug at Stiles' V-neck, "I think it's similar to how this isn't a bruise, either."

It doesn't take Stiles long to figure out what he's referring to and, when he does, he grins, interested, "Oh, yeah, is there a story behind that?"

"I found an absolute animal last night," he leans back on his palms, letting his shirt ride up and showing off some impressive marks on his hips, "rode me twice and still wanted more."

Stiles, keen not to be beaten, grins, "And I got fucked in the common room so ... "

And he isn't so egotistical to think that the guy wants him because he's got the kind of body that people write sonnets about and Stiles just doesn't but there's something in his eyes, a darkening as they dilate. He leans closer to Stiles like he doesn't knows he's doing it, licking his lips.

"Shit," he swears, voice low, "who was it?"

"I can't tell you that," Stiles says, still smiling, "but maybe you'll see us sometime."

"Wait," he says, catching him just as he's leaving, "what's your name?"

"Stiles."

They don't see each other for a few weeks, every student too busy with exams and deadlines to even think about relaxing but, the minute he's done, he's texting Derek to meet up. Because that's what it is between them, just sex without the perfunctory foreplay, and it's rough and hard and everything a teenage boy should want. It's not everything Stiles wants, though, and he finds himself craving more, despite the fact he knows that's not part of the arrangement.

"Whoa, hey there, sad kitty," a hand catches him as he steps onto the ground floor, "what's up with the long face? You should be happy after the fucking you got last night."

Stiles looks up, catching sight of the hot blond guy from a few weeks back, "How do you know I had sex last night? Maybe I didn't put out."

He laughs, "Nah, no member of Alpha Delta Xi would let you sleep over if you didn't have sex, it's against the fraternity rules."

"That's harsh."

He shrugs, "We're a frat house, not a family centre."

He can't argue with that, even though he wants to, since the fraternities made it pretty clear in pledge week what they expected of their pledges and Alpha Delta Xi had started off with over fifty kegs of beer and the biggest house party Stiles had ever attended. It was where he'd met Derek, nursing his one beer and just generally frowning at everyone, and they definitely hadn't hit it off that night but they had later. If he's being honest, Stiles isn't even sure what happened to make Derek choose him and he's torn between being grateful and hating himself for it.

So he agrees, "Yeah, your frat isn't particularly big on feelings."

"Fight with your boyfriend?" he asks sympathetically.

"We're not dating, it's just sex." Stiles shakes his head, not particularly wanting to talk about it. "Anyway, how was your night? Better than mine?"

"I picked up a guy and we went back to his place," he shrugs, "it was alright, nothing exceptional."

"Huh, I didn't know you went for guys."

"I'm an equal opportunity man, myself. I'll go for anything as long as I like them because that's what matters more than anything else," he pauses, thinking about it, "I think there's a word for it but I never bothered with that."

"You're not part of the LGBT society then?"

"Nah, the frat keeps me busy as it is, I'm in my last year so it's kind of getting a bit hectic along with my studies and I don't think I could handle anything else with lacrosse."

It's something that Stiles hasn't even thought about it, asking the guy's year and what he's studying, because he's so used to meeting people at uni and then never talking to them again. He thinks, though, since he won't be ending this thing with Derek anytime soon, that he'll be bumping into this guy for a while.

"I never asked you what you were studying."

"I'm doing History and I don't think I ever introduced myself, Jordan Parrish." He grins, showing off his dimples, "I remember your name's Stiles but I don't think I ever got your subject."

"I'm in first year, studying Psychology with a minor in Crim."

Jordan laughs, shaking his head, "I think you mean a minor in fucking an ADX boy."

"I wish, then I'd know I'm doing well in at least one of my modules."

"Shit, were exams that bad?"

"They weren't great," he admits, "I think I could've studied harder, you know?"

"I think you're a first year and it's your first exam season, you're worrying about nothing," he reaches over to pat Stiles' shoulder affectionately, "I've had nearly all of my first year brothers coming up to me so I wouldn't worry about it. You probably did better than you think, you're a smart kid."

"You don't know that."

"If I'm wrong, we'll get so drunk we black out, okay?"

Stiles smiles then, "Alright, that better be a promise."

"Yes!" Jordan cheers, "You smiled!"

Stiles stares at him, lips still quirked up, "Were you trying to make me feel better?"

He shrugs, "No one leaves the ADX house with a frown, it'd make people think we're doing bad things to you guys. And, you know, I kind of like it more when you're smiling."

It's empty words, things Jordan probably says to everyone, but it doesn't stop the grin on Stiles' face and he thinks he must look ridiculous to everyone else but he's happy and that's what's important.

And, now that he knows who Jordan is, it seems like he sees him everywhere. The first time is as he's just leaving Costa after grabbing the pick-me-up he needs for his 9am lecture and they nod at each other because it's far too early for words but, the next day, he sees him in town, walking with shopping bags filled with alcohol. He's talking to his friends, who are carrying the same number of bottles and cans, and he doesn't notice Stiles which is probably a good thing because he wouldn't know what to say at all.

He's more used to their one on one meetings in the early mornings when they bump into each other and swap stories about their night. It's strangely intimate, admitting to someone that he's into getting dominated and called demeaning names but Jordan doesn't judge him.

"It makes sense, I knew a guy who liked to feel used during sex but not after," he shrugs, "it's more common than you think, don't ever be ashamed of what you like."

"It's weird how you can take everything and put it in a more eloquent way."

"I have a way with words, it's really helpful when I'm struggling to make my word count for essays."

"And for picking up girls?"

"Yeah," he agrees, leaning forward to leer at Stiles, "and guys."

Stiles, used to the blatant flirting by now, laughs, "Keep trying, Jordan, it'll happen one day."

But Jordan doesn't feel like a prospective boyfriend, too nice and too comfortable for Stiles to ever get nervous around, and that's the thing. Because Stiles isn't on the same level as Jordan and Derek and he knows it, can objectively recognise that he isn't bad-looking, but definitely isn't as hot as them. So he doesn't think of Jordan in a sexual way which is refreshing because he's done with all of his crippling insecurities and can definitely get behind being friends.

Even if all that means is meeting up once a week and sharing far too much information with each other.

"Shower sex."

"On the dancefloor."

"Really?"

"Non-penetrative," Jordan clarifies, and it's a weird morning when things start off like that, "just rubbing off on each other, it was pretty hot."

The next week Stiles sees him near the bottom of the stairs eating pizza and they discuss BDSM over yesterday's takeaway. He kind of likes it.

"So, fisting." Jordan opens with one day.

Stiles looks at him over a bowl of cereal, "Are you going to continue with that thought or what?"

"Last night, I met this guy and we went back to his place and he was into fisting. I wasn't." He shrugs, aggressively chasing after the almond clusters in his bowl. "He got mad about it, like it was somehow my fault that something made me uncomfortable and acted like I was kink shaming him."

"Sounds like an ass." Stiles says supportively, because he knows Jordan's not that kind of guy. "Don't tell me you slept with him after that."

"Nah, he tried to make me feel guilty about something I was entitled to feel," he shakes his head, "I told him that he could go fuck himself, literally, because fuck that."

"So no fisting for you?"

"You could hurt someone really easily by doing it wrong, I don't know how I'd feel to have that power in my hands."

"Hmm," Stiles hums, "I suppose that's true."

Jordan arches an eyebrow, "Is that all you have to say about it? I can normally never get you to shut up."

"You wouldn't want to hear what I have to say."

"Oh?"

If it was anyone else, Stiles would deflect and evade but it's Jordan and he's never laughed at him before so he shrugs, staring down at his cereal. "It's just, could you imagine that, giving someone else so much power over you and trusting them not to hurt you? It gets me hot."

Jordan doesn't say anything.

"It's not as if I like it," Stiles says, filling the silence, "and I know that it's dangerous but imagine that intensity, that overwhelming feeling of being used, all for you."

"You have to be careful, Stiles," Jordan says, "I'm not against exploring what you like but make sure you do it safely."

Stiles looks over at him, lets his eyes run over his face, "Yeah, I'd totally let you do it to me."

Jordan chokes on a mouthful of cereal.

"I mean, you're a good guy, you'd be careful with me, right?"

"Stiles, this isn't—"

"Your hands were the first things I noticed about you," Stiles says lightly as he dumps his bowl in the sink, "I thought they were big and warm and I wondered what you could do to me."

"I could take you apart, I could wreck you," he says, voice low and eyes dark, "if you gave me the chance."

It's a joke between them, the casual flirtation that they have, and Stiles doesn't think any more about it when he leaves. When they meet the next few times, they don't mention it and Jordan teases him instead with how badly he could make him limp, how he could mark pale skin and absolutely ruin him.

And Stiles would be lying if he says he doesn't think about it because Jordan is funny and sweet and he's got the cutest dimples that Stiles has ever seen. It's not a problem, though, until Stiles finally admits to himself that he might enjoy talking to Jordan as much as he likes having sex with Derek.

He's a little bit screwed.

But it's not a problem because Stiles is the master of harbouring unrequited crushes until he wakes up one morning to find Derek next to him, watching him with hooded eyes.

"Holy shit!" he flails, almost taking the duvet with him onto the floor, "What are you still doing here? You're normally gone in the mornings."

"Lecture's cancelled. I thought I might have a lie in."

Stiles reaches over for his phone on the bedside table, blinking blearily at its brightness, "Oh, it's ten, we should probably get up, right?"

"Yeah, I'll make you breakfast."

Stiles isn't sure what to say because he can't remember a time when he spoke more than ten words to Derek, not outside of sex, but he grabs his clothes and tries to get as clean as possible. He can't do anything about his bed hair but he looks presentable enough and he follows the smell of bacon downstairs.

Shit, he thinks, when he sees Derek cooking and being domestic because he's so far gone for this boy.

"Hey, I've nearly cooked breakfast, I'm just waiting on the baked beans and then we're done," he brings over a plate to Stiles, not quite smiling but looking fond, "you can start eating."

"I didn't know you could cook."

"Our president makes us do chores. Does it taste good?"

"Yeah, yeah, it does." He says, eating slow because he wants to savour the taste.

Derek smiles, pleased, "I'm glad."

Stiles can't help but smile back, "It's just a surprise, I suppose, I thought ADX boys did nothing but party."

"No one calls us ADX boys, we're Alphas," he pauses, thinking, "well, the President does but we all ignore him."

"Who's the President?"

"He's a legacy, believes a lot in the 'work hard, play hard' mentality but he's a great guy and I know that we can all depend on him," Derek nods, more to himself than to Stiles, "you should meet him one day, you'd like him."

"What's his name?"

"Jordan—"

"Hey, it smells good in here!"

And Stiles knows that voice anywhere.

"What are you doing up so early?" Derek asks. "I heard you were up till three last night taking care of one of the guys."

"And I got vomit on my shoes for my trouble."

"Always going above and beyond for your frat," Derek grins, and turns to Stiles, "this is Jordan, our President, he's always looking after us. I don't think he's gotten laid for a month or something because he always puts his boys first."

Stiles frowns, looking at Jordan who completely avoids his gaze.

They don't talk about it, making idle chat as they eat but it's the first thing out of Stiles' mouth when Derek makes excuses to go and shower.

"What did he mean earlier?"

To his credit, Jordan doesn't feign ignorance, "He was just telling the truth."

"Last week, though, you said you picked up a blonde with killer heels and sharp nails."

"I did, and then I set her down."

"But why?"

"My boys needed me, not urgently, but it really helped that I was there with them," he pauses, like he's thinking about the next thing he says before going ahead with it, "and I couldn't stop imagining you on your knees for me."

"What?"

"I like you, Stiles, I like your humour and your way with words and I started looking forward to the morning after because it meant I could talk to you, even if it was only for a minute. I hated how you couldn't see it, though, how attractive you are and I hated the ADX boy you were fucking because he didn't tell you that. It makes sense that it was Derek, though, he doesn't know how to tell people that he likes them."

"Yeah, but he doesn't like me." Stiles says, choosing to address the second issue because he's not touching the other.

"No," Jordan shakes his head, "he doesn't do casual sex, he likes you."

"I like him, too," Stiles says, because it feels like he ought to.

"I know. You guys are good together."

"You didn't let me finish, I like you, too."

They talk about it for a bit, because Jordan's the kind of guy who can't just let a good thing happen to him, but Stiles forgets most of the conversation after he's taken upstairs and fucked again. Although, that's not an accurate description of it because Jordan kisses soft and slow and takes his time bringing Stiles to the edge just to pull him back, pressing his lips against skin and worrying it between his teeth.

Stiles is still loose from last night, doesn't need Jordan to lick at him and push his tongue in there, but it feels so good that he can't ask him to stop, gasping and whining as his body shakes. He's a mess of sweat and precum, can hear himself keening and moaning wantonly but he doesn't care, just needs it like burning.

Jordan and Derek are different lovers, giving him different things, and he loves the new arrangement because Jordan never fails to wipe him down and kiss him sweetly while Derek just takes but it's tiring, too. He doesn't think he could choose between them at all, doesn't want to, but his body can't take it so he comes up with a solution.

"Me and Derek?" Jordan frowns. "We're both tops, it wouldn't work out, I don't bottom for anyone."

"Derek would bottom for you."

Jordan doesn't look convinced in the slightest but Stiles knows his boys and he convinces him to try it at least once which is how they end up in Jordan's room, on his bed.

"This is a bad idea," he says, "we're going to make such a mess."

Stiles shoves him, "Shut up, I have the best ideas."

It's awkward at first, arranging themselves and fumbling for the lube, but Jordan spilling it on the bedspread has them laughing and breaking the tension. They turn their attention on Stiles, because they both know him and his body, and it feels like a competition as they try to one up each other in eliciting mews and shaky cries from his mouth. They nurse him through an orgasm with just their fingers and he lies there, panting, so he misses it when Derek makes the first move on Jordan. All he knows is, one minute, he's seeing stars and, the next, Derek's hissing as he's opened up.

He hears the obscene squelch of Jordan's thrusts and too much lube and he opens his eyes to look, unable to turn away from the sight in front of him. Derek takes it beautifully, aggressively pulling Jordan in for a kiss, never ceding control.

Later, when they're exhausted and all fucked out, Jordan admits it wasn't a bad idea, after all. Stiles is too tired to tell him 'I told you so' but he conveys it well by kicking him. Derek watches them, an amused little smirk on his face, and Stiles thinks he's right where he's meant to be.

 

Votes and comments?

**Author's Note:**

> Parrish is so cute, I don't think there are enough fics about him. <3


End file.
